


The Damage

by Princess_Pinky



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Pinky/pseuds/Princess_Pinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian Williams is not the only one left grieving for his lost child: what about Tabetha and Augustus Pond? Several years after Amy's and Rory's disappearances, Tabetha is still waiting for an answer about what became of her little Amelia Pond. Will she ever find out the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So after "The Angels Take Manhattan," there was a giant influx of Brian Williams fics. It literally jumped from two to thirty-one in a manner of days. Most of them involve either The Doctor and/or River telling Brian what happened and Brian finally getting to meet his granddaughter. So if you're anything like me, you now have a pretty good idea of how River and Brian meet. But, what about Tabetha and Augustus? They knew about The Doctor too, but they never got to travel with him. Yet nobody's writing fics about how they are dealing with the Ponds' disappearance. Well, now someone is (it started out as a one-shot and turned into a two-shot, imagine that!), and that's your spoiler warning for 7x05 if for some crazy reason you haven't seen it yet.

_ **The Damage** _

**Part One**

Miniature white and purple roses, that's all she could smell. The perfumey odor was almost more than she could bear. They reminded her of better days and that alone made her want to tear them all down and burn them in effigy. She'd only chosen them because they were _his_ favorite. That, after all, was why their daughter had worn them in place of a tiara on her wedding day.

Tabetha Pond curled her head in, tucking her right cheek to her right shoulder, effectively smothering her tears with the chiffon sleeve of her onyx colored dress. She hurriedly worked her fingers through her clutch, finding a natty, mascara and concealer blotched tissue at top, and yanked it out in order to blot her eyes and dab her nose.

Just as she was tucking the holey piece of paper back into her clutch for safe keeping her eyes stole upon the person she'd been looking for since the service: from her seat in the front pew she'd caught a glimpse of him in the back, having arrived just minutes before it had started. It had been her intent to track him down afterwards, but she'd been bombarded with mourners offering comfortless condolences instead, and somehow he'd disappeared into the fray.

"You came!" she called, cornering him near the hallway. "I didn't think you'd come. I'm so glad you came, Brian."

Brian Williams smiled softly. "Of course I came," he said quietly. "We're still family, right?"

"I – I didn't mean it like that," Tabetha backpedaled. "I'm sorry! I just meant –"

Brian pressed his hands to her forearms and squeezed them reassuringly. "I know what you meant," he said smiled sadly. "No harm done." Then he drew her into an embrace.

Tabetha was rigid at first, before slowly easing her arms around his back. She noted the rough feel of the coal colored suit jacket beneath her fingertips. Brian Williams in anything other than a bulky vest with too many pockets just wasn't right. He had been such a recluse the past several years that he was one of the last people she'd expected to show up, least of all in a suit. "Thank you."

"If there's anything I can do…"

Tabetha shook her head against the well between his shoulder and his neck. "I can't think of anything."

"Well if you do," he said, gently pulling back, "just let me know."

Tabetha nodded. "Thank you," she mumbled again.

Brian glanced uneasily down the hallway and flashed a meek smile. "Restrooms still down this way?"

Tabetha felt her cheeks grow a little warm. "Oh! Is there where you were off to?" she asked rhetorically. "Off with you, then! I didn't realize."

Brian nodded. "I'll be right back," he smiled before excusing himself.

Tabetha watched Brian's slightly stocky stature recede down the hallway a little more quickly than she would have thought he could and then dejectedly turned to stare at the sea of black and navy blue that was swarming through her living room. She was trying to decide how rude it would be to sneak upstairs to their – _her_ – bedroom when she noticed something at the refreshments table.

A bouquet of blonde ringlets connected to a long, slender figure in a primly put together black pencil skirt and matching jacket, completed with dark stockings – the seams perfectly aligned – and shiny black pumps that Tabetha was positive she couldn't afford with a year's worth of gross wages.

Tabetha approached the figure cautiously and the nearer she got, the stranger things she noticed. For one, the woman was standing in front of the apple tray – each with ironically happy faces carved into them – clutching one of the apples in her palm, her nails nearly as red as the apple skins themselves. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be completely oblivious to the goings on around her. "Excuse me," Tabetha breathed, her fingers brushing the woman's wrist ever so smoothly, "but may I ask who you are?"

The woman's eyes snapped open and the apple fell from her fingers. It hit the floor with a thud and fell on its proverbial head, making the happy face appear as a sad one. "I'm sorry!" she blurted out, instantly bending down to retrieve the fallen apple. "I wasn't paying attention."

"It's my fault," Tabetha disagreed. "I snuck up on you, I apologize." She waited until the blonde had stood up again, with the apple in hand. "I just…I saw you come in with Brian at the service and…" She smiled awkwardly. "Are you... _together_?"

To Tabetha's surprise, the woman's face began to turn the color of her nails and the apple she held so tightly. Maybe even more so. "No. No! I'm _married!_ Brian and I…we're… _related_."

The words sent a shock through her system and Tabetha attempted to place how that could be: from what Amy had always said, Brian was an only child. He and Rory's mother had divorced when Rory was young, as she recalled, and he'd remarried shortly after Rory's eighteen birthday to a woman that Amy often complained hated them both. In fact, the tension had become so extreme that it had caused a rift between Brian and Rory mere months before Rory's own wedding, resulting in Brian's absence. After his second wife's passing, they'd slowly begun to repair their relationship, but according to Amy, it hadn't been until 2020 – for reasons she didn't specify – that they'dreally become close; closer than they'd ever been, in fact. That had only made their subsequent disappearance so much worse.

"I d-didn't realize," Tabetha sputtered. She seemed to be saying that a lot today. Although she didn't want to be rude, the woman was nagging at her: why had Brian brought someone she didn't even know to the service? How was she related to him in the first place? Not that it mattered, though, and maybe that was the point: her mind just needed something else to focus on. "How rude of me," she said suddenly, offering a shaky hand. "I'm Tabetha. And you are?"

After a beat, the woman accepted her hand. "R – Melody."

"Melody?" A cold shiver rippled under the surface of her skin. The universe couldn't seem to reel in its cruelty. "My – my daughter used to have a friend named Melody…growing up. Mels, we called her." She felt her eyes water up. "She disappeared quite a few years back, though. No one ever did find out why."

"I'm sorry," Melody whispered.

Tabetha retrieved her tissue from her clutch again and swiped her eyes. "Leadworth certainly is getting smaller and smaller these days."

Melody brushed the fallen apple against her skirt and raised it. "Were these your idea?"

She laughed bittersweetly. "I used to make them for my d-d-aughter…she hated apples so I drew faces into them so she would eat them." Tabetha watched Melody reach for one of the Dixie cups of caramel sauce as if in a trance. "Amy took after her father, ever the sweet tooth." Another laugh came, though this time a bit less on the bitter side. "I used to tease him by saying he was my very own Augustus Gloop."

Melody nodded. She tilted the Dixie cup and peered into the sludgy ambery goo.

"River?"

Tabetha lifted her head at the sound of Brian's voice. "Brian! I – I noticed you came in with Melo – wait, _River?_ "

Brian looked questioningly towards Melody. "Melody?"

"Wh–" Tabetha shifted her head between the two. She'd been around long enough to know when a conversation with eyes when she saw one. "Brian, what aren't you telling me? Who's River? Are _you_ River? You said you were Melody!"

Brian grabbed Melody by one arm and Tabetha by the other. "Why don't we go that way?" he asked, nodding towards the hallway. He shifted his eyes, silently pointing out the curious and puzzled stares they were beginning to attract.

Tabetha smiled politely. "If you'll excuse us," she said before wriggling her arm from Brian's grasp and motioning her hand in a fashion an angry mother might use on her child. "After you." She watched the two reluctantly move ahead of her and followed close behind, gauging their interpersonal movements though they didn't yield any clues as to what on Earth might be going on.

Brian shut the door as soon as everyone was inside.

They had picked the laundry room, of all places, and the last thing Tabetha thought she needed was the sight of Augustus's shirts. Still, she held firm, glaring at Brian and Melody – or River – as she waited for an answer.

"Tell her."

"You know how –"

"Tell. Her. She deserves to know!"

Tabetha shot Melody a pointed look. "Tell me what?"

"It's complicated –"

"It's not that complicated," Brian interjected.

For some reason the fifty-something woman was suddenly wearing the look of a child who just got caught in a fib. "Don't you think she's been through enough today?"

"I'll be the judge of how much I can take, thank you very much, young lady!"

Brian raised his eyebrows amusedly.

Melody sighed and stared down into the Dixie cup of caramel sauce. "I'm not just related to Brian," she finally announced. "I'm his – his granddaughter."

Tabetha felt her lips fall apart but no words came out.

"Do you remember Amy's wedding?" she continued.

"How could I forget?" Tabetha practically bit back. "A big blue box materializes on the dance floor and my daughter's imaginary friend walks out and proceeds to dance with everyone!"

Melody grinned. "Yeah, he does love to dance at weddings."

"You know him? You know Amy's imaginary friend?"

Once again, Melody looked to Brian. She glared. "I'm _married_ to him."

" _What?"_

"Mrs. Pond," Melody said, dipping her finger into the caramel sauce. "Did you know that when Amy and Mels were little girls, your husband used to fill bowls of melted caramel up for them and they'd take those happy apples you used to carve and…" She ran her caramel coated finger along the curved line of the apple that made its mouth "…draw lipstick grins on their faces with it?"

Momentarily stunned by the information, Tabetha could only nod. She had once walked in on such an intimate scene and watched, but had never let on that she knew what Augustus condoned doing to what she had thought were her _healthy snacks_. When she finally found her voice she asked: "How did _you_ know that?"

"I think you're going to need to sit down for this."

"I'm fine just where I am," Tabetha insisted, leaning against the dryer.

"All right, if that's how you feel…I know that it's no use arguing with a Pond woman." Melody set the grinning caramel lipped apple onto the hood of the dryer and folded her arms to mirror Tabetha's stance. "Then allow me to reintroduce myelf: I go by River Song, but that's not my birth name. I was born Melody…Melody _Pond_. But _you_ know me best as Mels Zucker." River offered her hand. "And I'm very sorry that it's under these circumstances, but I am grateful to see you again, Grandmother."

" _Grandmother?"_

"Now do you want to sit down?" Brian asked.

Tabetha nodded and staggered back, easing herself into a pile of dirty clothes and not even caring. "Grandmother?" she asked again. "That's – that's –"

"As impossible as your daughter's imaginary friend showing up at her wedding?" River nodded slyly. "That's where you know me from, by the way. I was the one who handed you the blue diary to give to Amy."

"But –"

"No, just listen, there's more!" Brian urged.

And listen she did, to the entirety of River's – or was it Melody? or Mels? – story. None of it made much sense. She couldn't seem to wrap her head around the idea that anyone could change into a completely different person, least of all the daughter of her own daughter. But she kept coming back to the simple fact that The Doctor had appeared in the middle of the dance floor with his magic box. It wasn't magic, Amy had insisted, but Tabetha couldn't think of it any other way. Several times, especially near the end, Brian interjected too, but Tabetha held a poker face, and when they were done, they each waited anxiously for her answer, wearing faces that reminded her of Rory; a Williams face, Amy would probably say. Then there was a deep and resounding pang in her chest: _Amy. Augustus._

"Tabetha?" Brian asked tentatively.

But her only reply was the harsh cry of skin against skin: she had slapped them, Brian _and_ River. She wasn't sure whether she believed them yet, but the thing that scared her the most was that she just _might_ , and that was why she stormed out of the laundry room with the door slamming shut behind her. If what River said was true, it was more than she could take on this black day, but they certainly had no right to be the ones to comfort her.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. (But I'm not as bad as River and The Doctor…yet. :P) This is actually going to be a three-parter. After I turned it into a two chapter story, I just felt like it had a better flow if I cut up the second chapter. So, good news, more ficage, bad news, no resolution…yet.

_ **The Damage** _

**Part Two**

A week after Augustus's funeral, Tabetha found herself standing in front of her daughter's blue door. She'd never had a key to the house prior to their disappearance, but Brian had eventually given her one. At the time, she'd been a little jealous, because she didn't even know that Brian had one: why Brian and not her and Augustus? But, she decided, maybe that had been Rory's decision; he'd always been a little more personable than their daughter in so many ways.

The key twisted in the lock and the door opened. For some reason, she'd been expecting it to creek for all the years that it hadn't been opened. She'd also, for some reason, expected to have a wave of smell – that unique Amy and Rory's house smell – crash over her. Neither occurred. It tugged at her heart a bit; she hadn't dared step foot in the house since their disappearance. It had been too painful. Augustus had, but not her. She had, however, been unwilling to sell it, just in case they ever did come back, and Brian had been more than happy to _continue watering the plants._

That memory made her suddenly aware of the sound in the house: a whirring, slurring sound, the sound of water through pipes. She looked up, then down, and finally turned in a half circle before she realized where the sound was coming from and where it was going to. She followed it, half glancing at the furniture and the pictures, all left in the places she remembered them the last time she had visited so many years ago, for Amy and Rory's ten year anniversary. She'd lost track of them for a while that day and she could've sworn that they'd changed clothes when she saw them again, but she never brought it up. If only she had interacted with them more.

A yelp sliced through her thoughts like a reaper's blade. Tabetha realized she was standing at the sliding glass door, staring into the garden. To her surprise, there was Brian. And River. The former was soaking wet, probably the reason for the yelp, seeing as how he was now chasing River around the yard with the hose. A smile almost came to her face, for in that fraction of a moment, she didn't see an old man and a middle aged woman: she just saw a grandfather and his granddaughter playing in the garden.

The moment ended shortly thereafter, when River came to an abrupt halt on the patio, having noticed Tabetha watching, and Brian barreled into her nearly knocking them both down. The hose freed from his hand and jerked towards the window, splaying water across the glass before falling to the ground and continuing to spew a puddle.

Tabetha stepped forward and carefully pulled back the sobbing glass door. She stepped over the hose in a Mary Poppins fashion and stood quietly before the two, surveying their deer-in-headlights expressions.

"Tabetha!" Brian said, daring to make the first utterance. "We didn't hear you come in." He was shivering, but trying not to show it.

"I didn't know you'd be here." She glanced at the trees, thick with foliage, then at the flowers – white, purple, and red rose bushes and a patch of sunflowers – bright as a brand new box of Crayola markers. "The plants look like they're doing well."

Brian nodded. "I water them every week."

What could she say to that? It was more than she did. "Oh." Tabetha was trying hard not to look at River, but the woman was right at the corner of her eye, and she couldn't help but see her. "And I suppose you help him?"

"Sometimes, yes," River admitted.

Brian scratched the back of his neck. "Th – there's a kettle on the stove. Would you like to come in and have a cuppa with us?"

"Not really."

"Oh."

Tabetha winced internally. She knew she was being mean, but that didn't necessarily mean she was being _unfair_. It was them, after all, who had waited until Augustus's wake to tell her what had really happened to her daughter and son-in-law. "I'll go find you some towels," she said, stepping back into the house. "I assume they're still in the linen closet in the hall?"

"He hasn't moved anything," River said, a bit defensively.

Tabetha ducked up the stairs without a word. She felt her eyes welling and swiftly used her sleeve to brush them dry. When she opened the linen closet she reached for the towels nearest to the edge. As she pulled them out she noticed something tucked deep into the back of the shelf. Wanting to extend her time upstairs, she set the towels onto the floor and reached for the object in the back. It turned out to be a rubbish bin bag: slippery and white, with a red drawstring. She unwound the string and pulled the bag open, revealing it to be full of more towels. But not bathroom towels, _beach_ towels.

The lesser used towels, hence the garbage bag. She knew, because she did the same thing with her own beach towels. It was fitting, because at that moment, she was unable to stem the sea of tears breaking in her eyes. Without hesitation, she shoved her fists into the bag and pulled out the top towel, burying her face into to catch the tears and muffle the sounds. When she did, the smell came: that Amy and Rory smell that had long disappeared from their house. It made her weep even harder.

A half an hour later, when she finally did come down, she found Brian at the table wrapped in a blanket and nursing a cup of something that smelled spicy and vaguely sweet but she couldn't place what the flavor was. Being a self defined tea nerd, she was a little surprised by that, but didn't allow it to show. Instead, she sat down across from him, and glanced at River rooting around in the kitchen from her peripheral view.

"She's like Amy, isn't she?"

Tabetha shifted her eyes. She realized she never brought the towel down that she had promised. "I forgot the –"

"Look at her," Brian insisted.

Tabetha turned her head a little. River was about four inches shorter than her daughter, her hair was all curls and blondeness, and frankly, she looked _nothing_ like her daughter.

"She's got Rory's nose, poor thing."

Tabetha did a double take and bit her lower lip to stop an instinctive smile from creeping onto her face. Actually, Brian was right. Then, as she continued to look, something niggled at the back of her head: a photo with raging ginger curls, like River's, only _Amy's_. It had been on the cover of _Elle_ magazine the year that Amy and Rory almost divorced. Then, as River returned from the kitchen, she was able to see her face in full and its moon shape reminded her of Amy's. So did those apple red nails. Even as a little girl Amy had had a nail varnish fetish and red had forever been her favorite.

As River set the kettle on the table Tabetha noticed a glint on her wrist. She grabbed for the River's hand, holding it against the kettle lid, and studied the dainty gold watch. "This watch…" she breathed.

River looked down. "It was –"

"My mother's," Tabetha finished. Her eyes sparkled.

"Yes," River agreed, painfully. "Mine too."

Tabetha released River's hand and pressed the back of her fingers to her eyes. She didn't want to break down again, not in front of them, and yet she didn't want to run away and hide either. She opted to grab for the kettle and a cup, pouring herself a raging cup and lifting it to her face so she could bury herself in the steam. From behind the cup, she heard River sit down in the seat between herself and Brian. After a while she dared to take a sip, hoping it wouldn't burn the tip of her tongue. To her surprise, the taste of the tea was foreign. "What is this?" she asked, moving the cup down so she could see over the rim.

"It's a fifty-first century blend," River replied. "Do you like it?"

Tabetha tasted it again. It was so strong, almost like cinnamon, but without the burning effect of cinnamon. "Fifty-first century?"

"The time travel bit," Brian said, "it takes a while to get used to. River brings a lot of tokens back for me when she visits."

Tabetha set the cup down and pushed it to the edge of the table. "About the time travel bit." Her voice was terse. "If you can do all this time traveling, why don't you do anything _useful_ with it? Like preventing the World Wars or – or – or saving my daughter from nineteen-thirty-eight?!"

River closed her eyes. "I understand your –"

"No. No you don't!"

"She was your daughter, but she was _my mother!_ " River shouted. And suddenly the teacup she was holding slipped between her fingers, shattering on the table.

Brian jumped, but Tabetha remained still as the tea ran over the edge like a liquid cherry wood waterfall. "You didn't answer my question."

"Tabetha –"

"No. No, Brian, I want to know: why can't she – or that Doctor with his magic blue box – bring Amy and Rory back?" She shoved her chair back and scowled. "And why didn't anyone tell me I had a granddaughter before now? _Why?!_ "

"It was their choice. Amy's and Rory's. I didn't even know until after they were gone. They didn't tell anyone. I would guess because it was too complicated…and too painful."

"But why did _you_ get to know and not me? Not Augustus?"

"Because it's one thing to _know_ about The Doctor," River replied, visibly restraining herself. "It's another thing to _travel_ with him; to be a piece of his world. Brian did and he spent all that time waiting for The Doctor to bring them back."

"And we didn't?"

"You waited, yes, but it's different!"

"Rubbish! If he got an explanation," she said, extending an accusatory finger at Brian, "then we deserved one too! But no, Augustus and I spent years and god knows how many tears and sleepless nights waiting for the daughter that would never come! Augustus _died_ waiting! You stole away from him any solace or closure he could have ever had! _Both_ of you! And that damned Doctor. How dare he think he think himself deserving of such a title."

"How dare _you_ ," River spat. "You don't know him. You don't know the things he's done!"

"Like lose my daughter to nineteen-thirty-eight New York and never have the courage to tell me to my face? Like being the reason you grew up as my daughter's best friend instead of her daughter?"

"It doesn't matter what you or anyone else says: I was her daughter. I _am_ her daughter. Amy knows that and _I_ know that."

Brian rose and stepped between them, the edge of his blanket falling into the spilt tea. "Look at the pair of you!" he scolded. "Is this what either of you thinks Amy and Rory would want? You fighting like cats and dogs instead of coming together like a family – however unconventional – should?"

River closed her eyes and swallowed heavily. "He's right."

"He may be right, but that doesn't mean it's going to happen. You can't smooth this over just by using Amy against me, Brian. I'm still without a daughter, you're still without a son, and the fact remains that you two were never planning on telling me the truth."

"The timelines in nineteen-thirty-eight are in scrambles because of the Angels battery farm and concentration of paradoxes that occurred when we were there trying to fix things. The TARDIS can't go back there because they are too fragile. Imagine it like a window shield: you may get away with so many pebbles or rocks hitting it, but eventually it will crack, maybe even spider web, and it wouldn't take much after that to completely break it in. That's what going back to nineteen-thirty-eight New York would do and there would be no way to repair it after that. It'd probably attract the attention of the Reapers and then all hope would be lost."

"The Reapers?"

"A very old alien race that is attracted to paradoxes, the bigger the better, and they 'sterilize' the paradoxes by devouring them. They would literally eat up New York and everyone in it until there was nothing left."

"So why not just go back to just before Rory saw his headstone and stop him?"

"It would be going back on our own timeline. It's – it's not impossible, but it's extremely dangerous."

"Then why not just go to nineteen-thirty-nine and pick them up?" Tabetha hollered in frustration. "Or have them go to New Jersey instead of New York and bring them right back here?!"

River looked to Brian and the latter sighed. He moved into the kitchen and opened a drawer. A few minutes later he returned and handed a manila folder to Tabetha.

"What is this?"

"Look for yourself."

She peeled back the cover and found photocopies and newspaper clippings; some clippings were yellowed with fraying edges, as you would expect them to be, but others looked like they'd been clipped just yesterday even though they had dates from decades ago stamped upon them, and in them, she saw Rory. And Amy. Her hands shuddered.

The earliest cutout was from 1939, an op-ed article on immigration. In it there were references about being forced to move from Scotland to Leadworth as a child and again before forced to move from London to New York as an adult, though details of how and why were left bare in the latter. In fact, there were several op-ed pieces spanning over a decade including ones on fertility issues, motherhood, and even an article as late as 1950 in praise of Jane Grant and the reconstitution of the Lucy Stone League, a feminist group dedicated to helping women keep their maiden names on official documentation even after marriage. Ironically, it was credited as being written by Amelia _Williams_.

"They went by Williams in the past," River said when Tabetha looked up. "It draws much less attention than Pond, if you think about it. Williams is the third most popular surname in the United States. If someone were doing historical or genealogical research, it would have been very curious to find another Amelia Pond married to another Rory Williams in the history books…especially one who looks exactly like a rather famous model, businesswoman, and travel journalist from twenty-twenty."

"And she did take Rory's name," Brian added a little defensively. _"Legally."_

"On _paper_ you mean," Tabetha shot back. "She always went by Amelia Pond socially and professionally. She only took his name on paper because she knew Rory wanted that. I lost count of how many bowls of midnight chocolate chip pancake batter we made when we stayed up to talk about that in the months before the wedding. If Amy had had it her way, Rory would've changed his name to Pond like Augustus did."

"Augustus changed his name?" Brian blinked.

"Changed his deed poll in Scotland when we got married." She smiled slyly at the memory.

River mirrored Tabetha's expression: "And that was never lost on her. She fought Dad to make sure I was a Pond. Not to hurt him, but because it was something that she felt as fiercely about as he did when he wanted her to be Mrs. Williams."

Tabetha surveyed the papers in her hands again and realized that one was titled: _Pond River Publications Début!_ "What's this?"

"After becoming known for her op-ed pieces in various New York papers over the years, she became a feminist columnist and eventually opened her own publishing house: Pond River Publications. The first thing it ever published was a book called _Melody Malone_ , written by me, with an 'Afterward' by Mum. The publishing house ended up wildly success, specializing in fantasy and science-fiction novels, though it wasn't exclusive to that. I even ended up writing a prequel for her later, called _The Angel's Kiss_." River rolled her eyes, smiling. "I wasn't in it the profit, mind you, I wrote it for a charity fundraiser to collect money for…" She moved to stand beside Tabetha, rifling through the papers in her shaky hands. She picked one out and pointed to a photograph of Amy and Rory standing in front of a restored children's home. "…Melody's Home. Formerly, Graystark Hall."

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Graystark Hall? But isn't that where you said –"

"The Silence held me in my first incarnation for several years under the brain scrambled Doctor Renfrew, yes. Mum and Dad completely gutted and restored the place in nineteen-seventy-three. The restoration was completed in seventy-five and officially opened on my birthday of the same year." She tapped the photograph of Amy and Rory, hand-over-hand, cutting the ribbon of Melody's Home for the opening ceremony.

Tabetha felt her nose tickle and begin to dribble so she lifted her sleeve to dab it. "You said you wrote those books for Amy. You must have been able to see her then? So why can't you bring her back?"

"I sent them to her, I never said I saw her," River corrected.

"How is that possible?"

River sat down across from her grandmother. "The Doctor isn't the only one with contacts all over time and space. Let's just say a certain Time Agent owed me a favor for arresting me for a crime I never actually committed…although, to be fair, he doesn't actually remember arresting me for it, but that's the Time Agency for you."

Tabetha returned a blank stare.

River sighed and tried again: "Look, the more details I give you, the more complicated and convoluted it becomes, but all you need to understand is that I know someone who gets around almost as much as myself and The Doctor – usually because he _lives_ it – and he was able to deliver the manuscripts for me without damaging the timelines."

"I know you want them back, Tabetha, you know I do. But look at what they've done! Look at how instrumental they have been on history. You're holding Amy's accomplishments in yours hands! And Rory, oh, _Rory!_ " Brian beamed. "Did you know that Rory saved hundreds of lives during World War Two? There's even a website dedicated to him online – top of my favorites list! – which was created by veterans who would have died were it not for him. And have you ever heard of the World Health Organization? WHO, for short. _My boy_ was instrumental in its inception in nineteen-forty-eight! Even if it were possible to get them back, think about what we'd be taking away from the world."

"You can call me selfish all you want, but I'd rather have my daughter back."

"You're not the first Pond woman to say that, but it doesn't make it any less impossible. This was Amy's choice."

"You don't get to say something is a choice when you're choosing between the lesser of two evils."

"There's always going to be evil, somewhere, some when. Someone's hope is someone else's destruction. Every choice we make is a lesser evil."

"You just keep speaking in riddles."

"I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry. I'm just trying to clarify this for you. I don't know what else I can say. Time travel is not an easy science."

Tabetha gathered all of the clippings against her breast and turned gave Brian a side winding glance. "Can I keep these? For a while, I mean."

Brian nodded. "However long you need them. In fact," he raised his finger, "let me go get you a few more things. One moment."

Tabetha stared at the articles again. She couldn't seem to extract her eyes from the ones with the pictures. The one of Rory and Amy in front of Melody's Home sang to her in so many different ways. If only Augustus could see it too.


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part! Even though I took forever in uploading it.

_**The Damage** _

**Part Three**

"'Hello old friend, and here we are. You and me, on the last page. By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we lived well and we're very happy. And above all else, know that we will love you, always.'" Tabetha set the book down, unable to push the sting out of her eyes. Her daughter had chosen to say goodbye to that Doctor, but not her own parents. That couldn't not hurt.

The grass was still yellow beneath the headstone, even a little brown. It wasn't like in the movies, an undisturbed patch of green Earth just days after a funeral. And this had been _weeks_. She'd visited every day because how could she not? After Brian had given her the Pond River Publications – he had a copy of every book ever published by Amy's publishing house – she'd begun bringing them with her to the graveyard and reading them to the temporary grave marker until yesterday, when it had been replaced with a heavy marble rectangle that she'd paid a small fortunate for. But now, on the last page of the first novel, she simply couldn't bring herself to finish it. It wasn't for _her_ anyway.

Tabetha reached to her left, grabbing for what looked like a cross between lunchbox and a backpack. In actuality, it was a modernized and insulated picnic backpack. She'd bought it through a shopping program that offered unique gifts in exchange for the points she'd built up at the store. The picnic bag was built for two: it came with two plastic plates, two sets of silverware, two cloth napkins, a side holster for wine, and two Velcro straps on the opposite side for a rolled up blanket. It was once a pleasant spring green color, but from all the use it had sustained, it had since faded to a silvery mint color. She pulled it into her lap and opened the main compartment. It was only packed for one this time and thus it seemed like her arm took forever to touch the bottom.

When she'd found what she wanted she pulled her hand back and revealed a ripe red apple in her clutches, plucked from the fruit bowl just that morning. Tabetha shined the apple with one of the cloth napkins and moved it towards her teeth. But, however hard she tried, she couldn't do it. Instead, she set the apple onto the cover of _Melody Malone_ and reached for the stack of Pond River books. She hadn't actually gone through all of them, just the top two or three, and even at that, she'd only cracked the cover of _Melody Malone_. So she was surprised when somewhere in the middle of the stack, she found a recipe book titled _Fish Fingers and Custard or: How to Stop Worrying and Learn to Have Fun Eating with Your Kids_.

Curious, she turned the cover and scanned the index page. One section, "The Apple of My Eye," caught her attention. After locating the page number she turned to it and found a bright red happy faced apple staring back at her beneath the subtitle. It was a reprint of a hand drawing, but there was no mistaking where the inspiration had come from. "'I used to hate apples,'" she read. "'But my mum put faces on them.'" Her eyes swept across the words, growing wetter and wetter as she got closer to the end. There was a P.S. "'And if you _really_ want to stop worrying, just know that a little caramel 'lipstick' kiss never hurt nobody. I'll never forget those times, Daddy.'"

Tabetha felt a hot trickle curl over the curve of her cheek. She'd wiped Amelia's tears away so many times as a baby and toddler, always getting herself into some sort of bloody scrape, but no more so than the day that they left toward the airport in Scotland for their new home in Leadworth. When Tabetha closed her eyes she remembered the first time Amelia had wiped away _her_ tears; the day that her mother had made a long distance call from Scotland to inform her that Snuggles, a cat she and her mother had adopted when Tabetha was just a teenager, had passed away in his sleep. It had become something between them, but for too many years now Amelia was the source of her tears. She tried to remember how her daughter's five-year-old fingers felt on her face. In their place, she used the cloth napkin from her lunch sack.

She sniffed thrice and once as composed as she was going to get, she pried her cell phone out of her purse and located Brian's name in her contacts. It rang twice before he picked up. Tabetha could hear the surprise in his voice and pictured how his eyes must have rounded when he saw her name on his caller I.D.

"Tabetha?"

"Is she with you?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

On the other end, Brian cleared his throat. "Sh—ts—al—to—ou."

Although she couldn't see him, she knew when someone was trying to cover the speaker with their palms when she heard it. The muffled words for one, but it was the telltale scratch of the skin on the receiver that confirmed it for her. Deadly calm, she waited.

"Hello?"

"Bring him here."

"Him?"

"Him," Tabetha snapped. "The Doctor. Your husband and his magic box. I'm at the cemetery. You know where." She hung up before River could respond and tucked her phone back into her purse. Minutes passed as she gathered up Brian's books and repacked her lunch box, including the apple. Still, no rush of wind; no blue box. Frankly, there was no excuse. It was a time machine. A time and _space_ machine. And then there was a crackle, like live wires in water. Tabetha whirled to see gray smoke dissipating into the breeze and before her stood River and Brian, arm-in-arm. She stood abruptly. "Where is he?"

"He's not coming," River said calmly. She unwound her arm from her grandfather's and stepped cautiously around Augustus's headstone, so that she could see the inscription.

"Then how did you get here?"

River raised her wrist, revealing the weathered leather of her vortex manipulator. "Think of it like a motorbike. Where ever you want to go, we can use this."

"What makes you think I want to go anywhere? Maybe I wanted to see _him_."

Still looking at the marble, River shook her head. "You've obviously been thinking about this for a while now, probably as soon as you got home and began looking through those clippings." She finally turned to catch Tabetha's steely gaze. "The only question is where? Where in _contemporary_ New York do you want to go?"

Tabetha sucked in her chest. "Space travel but not time travel?" she asked, her eyes on the leather strip.

River shifted her eyes to Brian, who shrugged from the spot that he'd been teleported into.

"So it _does_ go through time?" Tabetha demanded, not missing a beat.

"Depends on where you have in mind."

Tabetha pointed to the second date on Augustus's headstone. "Take me to his hospital room."

Brian gawked. "Can you–"

"No," River interjected. "I told you: you can't go back on your own timeline."

Tabetha's hand shook at her side, almost as though it might rise up and strike River across the cheek again, but it didn't. Instead the books fell from her hands and crunched against the nearly dead grass covering Augustus's grave. "I wasn't with him when he – when it happened."

Her words were microscopic, but River heard them.

"I went to the loo. I went to the loo and when I came back…"

River took another look at the date. Without warning, she pressed her finger to her vortex manipulator and her form dissolved into an electric spark, leaving only a smoky cough in her space.

Brian moved to fill it before the smoke had cleared, but Tabetha violently shoved him away. "She is no daughter of Amelia's! How do you let a man die alone when you have the power to stop it? _How?!_ " She pummeled the sack into Brian's chest and then continued to beat his chest and shoulders with the pads of her fists. She was so consumed in her fury that she didn't even register the smoke until she felt someone restrain her by the wrists and realized it was River. In the thick of the moment, she thought she saw tears in the woman's eyes, but her own brimmed over and when she was able to blink away the flood, River's eyes were dry again. Or maybe they had always been.

"I'll take you, on one condition."

" _What?"_ Tabetha asked, grinding the word between her teeth.

"Whatever you see, you _cannot_ interfere."

"What sort of rubbish are you on about?"

"Promise me or we don't go."

Tabetha swallowed thickly. She wrenched her hands away and bent down to grab the lunch sack, though it was more a distraction than anything, so she could have a moment to collect herself. She rose slowly, her teeth still drawn together like two magnets, and she nodded though she still didn't understand River's condition.

River offered one hand to Tabetha and the other to Brian, but the latter shook his head. "Are you sure?"

"It should be you two."

River nodded slowly, if uneasily. "Are you ready?"

"Does – does it hurt?" Tabetha whispered. She made a scribbling motion with her fingers. "The frying bit?"

"It tingles," River replied softly. "A bit like peppermint, across your body simultaneously. But it doesn't hurt."

Tabetha inclined her head and let her hand fall into River's. Just as River had described, she felt a cool tingle engulf her. It was almost soothing. Then the next thing she knew, she was standing in a familiar hospital room, and the door was clicking into its lock. She had literally _just_ missed herself from weeks earlier. And on the bed, she saw him, August, alive, though sleeping. Tabetha looked to River, who nodded quickly.

"Hurry."

"Augustus?" Tabetha whispered as she neared the side of the bed. _"_ _Gràdh?"_

The sweet Scottish Gaelic endearment seemed to rouse Augustus from his slumber and his eyes fluttered deliriously at his wife. "Tabby?"

Tabetha stroked the side of his face. "My Augustus Gloop," she whispered, trying not to let her voice crack. She leaned in over him, smothering his face with her hair and kisses. "I have something to tell you."

"Hmm?" he murmured, as if saying anything else required too much effort.

Tabetha swallowed. "Am - Amelia," she choked. "She's okay, _Gràdh_. She – she can't –"

"Explain everything just now, but don't you worry, Dad, I'll explain everything when you wake up."

Tabetha used the side of the bedrail to shove herself up, scarcely believing the Scottish voice. She knew she was hallucinating when she saw her daughter standing at the foot of Augustus's bed.

"A-Amy!" Augustus hacked.

Amy rounded the bed and leaned over, her fruity hair falling over her shoulder but not touching Augustus's face. "I'm okay, Dad. I want you to know that."

"But h – how?" he asked, coughing as he tried to sit up.

Amy motioned for her mother to hold him down and she did. _"Shhh."_ She motioned for River, who obliged. "I have someone very special for you to meet. My daughter."

Augustus's eyes watered. "I don't under–"

River reached for her grandfather's hand and tucked it between her own like a clam. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something very, very blue."

Augustus coughed again, but lied back and nodded. "Amy's Raggedy M—Man."

River nodded and lifted his hand to her lips to kiss the back. She looked discretely at Tabetha. "It's time to sleep."

"I love you, Dad."

As Augustus smiled, Tabetha pressed her mouth to his. She felt him return to kiss and then the suction of his lips sagged away, stealing away her breath as well as his own.

River laid a hand on Tabetha's shoulder. "We have to go." She gently set Augustus's limp hand onto his chest.

But Tabetha was too busy staring at her daughter on the other side of the bed. "But–" As the word fell from her lips, Amy faded into thin air. She felt her tears cascade down her cheeks and drip like a rainfall from her chin. "But that was Amelia!"

River shook her head and motioned to the empty corner of the room. As if by the wave of her hand, the TARDIS appeared just as suddenly as Amy had disappeared, and the door opened seemingly on its own. "Before the past you gets back."

Tabetha watched breathlessly as River stole into the blue box. She felt her pulse galloping under her skin. She suddenly heard her own voice outside the door, prompting a memory of speaking to one of the nurses before she entered the room to find her husband having passed. She quickly laid Augustus's other hand onto the one that River had set on his chest, grabbed their lunch sack, and ran into the TARDIS. She heard the handle on the hospital door turn, but as she looked back, the TARDIS door shut soundlessly behind her. She ran to the door and stood on her tiptoes, staring out the window where she could see – and hear – her past self crying over Augustus's body. Tabetha turned and sunk down the door into a heap on the floor.

"The TARDIS is cloaked," River said. "That's why you don't remember seeing her. And that wasn't Amy, it was a holographic projection, also the TARDIS's doing. I'm sorry."

Tabetha shook her head. "I'm not," she whispered. "Short of Amelia herself, that's the best thing anyone could have given him in his final moments." She wiped the sticky strands of her hair from her cheeks. "This was your idea?"

River bowed her head.

Tabetha scrambled to her feet and strode up the walk to stand face-to-face with the woman who claimed to be River. And Mels. And Melody. And above all, her granddaughter. In such a close proximity, she noticed the liquid glass in the woman's eyes and when it finally spilled over her lashes, Tabetha brushed her fingers across the apples of River's cheeks to wipe the tears away.

River silently returned the gesture.

"Is he here?"

River didn't have to answer, as the sound of rubber soles scraping against metal stairs was answer enough. The Doctor descended onto the glass floor without a word and took his place beside the control panel, his head hung, unable to look Tabetha in the eyes. He waited until she moved to stand within inches of him and then, still without lifting his head, announced: "Do it. Whatever you have to do, do it. I can take it. I _deserve_ it."

Tabetha flexed her fingers at her side. "Look at me."

Obediently, The Doctor lifted his head.

Tabetha raised her hand and brought it down against his cheek, but it was no sharp slap, it was a gentle cup of her fingers. She moved her hand up around his neck and surprised him by pulling him into an embrace. "I can see that her leaving did far worse to you than anything I could ever inflict, Raggedy Man."

The Doctor flinched.

"I do, however, have a request."

"Anything," The Doctor whispered.

Tabetha smiled. "We'll need to pick up Brian first."

The Doctor sniffed as she released him from her arms. He turned to the control panel and stared at his wife through the bobbing blown glass time rotor as he flicked levers and twisted knobs.

Five minutes and two stops later, Tabetha found herself standing in front of the TARDIS doors, with Brian behind her, then River, and finally The Doctor. She pushed open the door and stepped outside, greeted by a chilly gust of New York air. Everything outside was still, save for the whistling leaves of grass that stretched out in front of her, dotted with granite pillars in varying shapes, sizes, and colors. But only one was of importance to her and she made a beeline to it.

Several feet behind her, she heard Brian whimper, confirming the fact that this was likely his first time visiting his child's grave as well. Tabetha unzipped the lunch sack in her hands and dropped to her knees in front of Amy and Rory's headstone. She retrieved the apple, shined it on her skirt, and then took out a melon baller and carved a smiley face into the apple. She heard the grass crunch behind her and she reached into the lunch sack to pull out a small container. "Melody," she said, holding both of them up.

River accepted the items and knelt beside her grandmother. She pulled the top of the container, revealing rich, gooey caramel, and dipped her finger into the semi-solid liquid before painting the mouth of apple with it.

"I'm so proud of you, Son," Brian whispered.

Tabetha took the apple as River offered it back to her and pressed a chaste kiss to the red skin, then laid the fruit at the base of the headstone, below her daughter's married name. No tears, no words. Tabetha rose fluidly with her sack in hand and walked halfway to the TARDIS before stopping. Soon she found herself joined by Brian, who stood by her, though he said nothing himself. Over her shoulder, she saw that River and The Doctor still stood before the headstone, hand-in-hand. She saw The Doctor reach out to touch the top of the granite.

"Go along, Pond."

Sometime later, Tabetha was the final one to board the TARDIS. She hung in the open doorway and the last thing she saw before she closed the door was the happy face of Amelia's apple staring back at her.


End file.
